


it doesn't really bear thinking about

by AvinRyd



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, One Shot, Pre-OT3, cause y'all know I ship it desparately, i thought I swore off nathaniel fix-it but...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvinRyd/pseuds/AvinRyd
Summary: "He wonders, vaguely, what might have changed if they’d lived; all three of them against the world. It doesn’t really bear thinking about, but then again, he’ll be dead in moments. Why not spend those dwelling on happier things?"--Stroud's ending was pure poetic justice but...this.





	it doesn't really bear thinking about

**Author's Note:**

> So I've made my peace with Nathaniel's death, but child!me had two headcannons on how Nathaniel survived. One met its death in New Perspectives, but the other lives on here.

There is a warmth deep in Nathaniel’s chest as Bartimaeus spirals away. No words, there hadn’t been time, but the ache of what he can only assume is affection lingers for stretching seconds after he’s ripped himself apart. He wonders, vaguely, what might have changed if they’d lived; all three of them against the world. It doesn’t really bear thinking about, but then again, he’ll be dead in moments. Why not spend those dwelling on happier things?

Time seems liquid, gooey with the stress Nouda and the staff exert. It takes less than a blink for the monster to bear down upon him, but Nathaniel sees the splintering of Gladstone’s wards in the deepest clarity over long minutes: sun-bright cracks in a glowing white nimbus. He knows what needs to be done. He’s stumbling, barely standing, pain fast encroaching on the edges of his mind, but he steels himself. Slowly, deliberately, he brings the staff up in both hands; a horizon with a blazing white sunrise at its center. 

The gnarled wood is humming now, exerting pressure away from itself, trying to peel Nathaniel’s fingers from their shaking grip. But no, he will not allow it. With the absolute last dribble of strength left in his limbs, a parting gift from the djinni, he enacts his will upon the imposing force. Through air as thick as molasses he drives the staff down, breaking it across his knee with an event resemblant of lightning. Copper coats his tongue, the sharp crack shrieks in his ears. His chest goes tight with the shock of screaming energy; he can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t even fall. Five plumes of radiant light blossom from the splintered staff.

Where time had once been fluid, now it freezes. Every beam, every grotesquery, every falling shard of glass is picked out in white, awaiting judgement before resuming its course. Nathaniel, too, is held in the thrall of desperate anticipation. Before him, five figures take form; all are humanoid, all are taller than even Nouda, and all are composed of light incarnate, resplendent in their glory. As one, they speak. Their voices resonate on all seven planes, sounding of men, of women, of children and beings of unknowable existence. And in this majesty, they intone,

“Human. You have freed us from a terrible fate, enacted upon us by our hated master. Beyond that, you have shown kindness to the least of our brethren who was yet in your power. Speak a wish, and it is yours.”

Nathaniel’s mind is clouded. Blinded by white light all around, fuzzy from the pain of his many injuries, he tries to bring the world into focus. A wish. These beings of awesome power, trapped inside Gladstone’s staff for more than a hundred years, are offering him a wish. He is dying, what could he possibly have to wish for? A though, drifting and faint, crosses his mind and without approval is released to the world.

“Well,” he says, or at least he hopes so, it’s hard to tell. “Not dying would be nice, I suppose.”

There is silence, crackling with power but silent nonetheless. Then, all at once, the flow of time resumes and there is noise and chaos and terror. 

“As you wish, so it shall be.”

The declaration resonates in Nathaniel’s very soul, and then it’s over.

There is light. 

There is dark.

There is light once more and his eyes open.


End file.
